What Happened Last Night
by phfina
Summary: Chapter 1: Rosalie and Alice are having a conversation about the “Bella Problem” at the Port Angeles Starbucks. Or were trying to: a customer with her baby who looks very much like Vera of 70 years ago rather derails that train of thought for Rosalie.
1. How I Met Vera

**Setting: **Port Angeles, WA, Jan 29, 2005, the weekend after the van incident in chapter 3 "Phenomenon" in the book _Twilight_ and the following family conference in _Midnight Sun_, chapter 4: "Visions."

**Chapter Summary: **Rosalie and Alice are having a conversation about the "Bella Problem" at the Port Angeles Starbucks. Or were trying to: a customer with her baby who looks very much like Vera of 70 years ago rather derails that train of thought for Rosalie.

* * *

Alice and I were sitting with our props at the Port Angeles Starbucks. We were lounging in the cushy chairs in a secluded corner, discussing what was obvious to me "the Bella Problem" in hushed voiced much quieter and at a higher pitch than humans could possibly hear, and much faster, too.

Edward, _foolish_ Edward, had just made a public spectacle of himself and saved that little Swan child from a sure death from an oncoming van. Emmett had erased the obvious signs on the van while everybody else concentrated on the (unfortunately) unharmed girl and the (unwisely) rash boy ... who happened to be a vampire.

A vampire just like me. A vampire just like Alice.

So, Edward claimed nobody suspected anything.

Nobody, except that troublesome girl, who couldn't have missed what was happening around her, even if she were as stupid as she looked.

But Edward claimed _she wouldn't say anything._

I felt that was entirely fair, and made the entirely reasonable proposal to make sure she didn't. After all, dead girls aren't known to be at all talkative.

Jasper, at least, saw sense, until his dear wife — I glared at _my dear sister_ in front of me — brow-beat him back under her thumb. So it was just me, _again,_ as the sole voice of reason. Me, staring at those 'be reasonable, Rosalie' eyes of the rest of my family.

I shut up. After eighty years? A girl knows when she's wasting air, but I didn't give up on my position.

So here we were, Alice and I, with her mission to talk me down from the ledge.

How sweet of her.

"Rosalie," she began in reasonable tones, "she's not going to say anything; I _know_ it. So you don't have to worry about it on that count. So why don't you put your concerns aside. It isn't always about you, you know."

Well, at least she wasn't using that chirpy-happy voice she use on everybody else to convince them everything is all good and happy.

Because everything was _not_ all good and happy. It surely wasn't.

"But it's not about me," I retorted. "It's not, Alice! It's about stupid Edward planning to go into that stupid human's room, _again, all night long, not_ drinking her blood, so you_ know_ what he's going to do, and it's just _sick!_ He should just ..."

I was going to tell Alice what Edward should just do with that girl, but I was interrupted. A young woman walked into the Starbucks, holding a baby less than nine months old in her arms.

She was a real looker ... for a human ... but when her eyes caught sight of Alice, she blushed and looked away quickly, and that's when her eyes found me, Rosalie Lillian Hale.

She blanched, fumbled with one arm in her purse, and flipped open her cell phone that both Alice and I saw was not ringing.

"Hello, John?" her voice quavered into the silent device, and she turned about quickly and made her escape.

I looked at Alice's smirk with my own plastered across my face. Both looked as naughty as mine felt.

"Excuse me a moment, Alice, dear," I purred, and rose to hunt my prey.

Alice rolled her eyes at my antics. Emmett was out with Jasper and Carlisle on a hunt with Edward.

I could just see it in her face as she sighed ruefully: _when the boys are away, the girls will play._

But I didn't have time for more verbal sparring with my sister. I had a girl to catch for an entirely different sparring game.

Outside, the woman had just finished hastily strapping in her baby into the child seat and straightened up from her handiwork.

I looked at her vehicle: _mommy van,_ I thought contemptuously, but then I saw the woman's figure. _Nice ass. _I was just going to love ... well, first things first.

"Excuse me, ma'am!" My voice rang out right behind her.

She turned, gasping in surprise.

Gasping right into my full-contact opened-mouth kiss.

I pressed myself into the woman, pushed her against the frame of the van, feeling her figure and letting her feel mine. I grabbed that _nice ass_ and squeezed, wrapping my other arm behind her shoulder, resting my hand, gently, on the back of the woman's head. The young mother was squirming, squeaking with surprise into my mouth, but she could only squirm closer to me.

I _like_ that.

Eventually, when her struggles subsided, I released the now pliant human, after hearing one or two other customers pass, one muttering "Get a room!" with disgust or jealousy.

The jealousy of humans ... I _like_ that, too.

The woman's struggles eventually relented, and she melted into my kiss. My tongue gently sought the woman's mouth, exploring and enjoying the taste of the human. She tasted so sweet, like black raspberries, but without those annoying seeds; ... compelling, but not painfully so.

I pulled back.

"So, beautiful; you have a name?" I asked, my voice silk and velvet.

The woman gasped out "Vera."

I sighed. "You look like her, too."

She did. I had been trying to ignore the resemblance. I had been trying to deny it, but there it was, and she had the same name, to boot. It was almost unfair, how uncanny she looked and carried herself in nearly the exact same manner of my best friend from more than seventy years ago.

But this Vera was still reeling from me: "What?" she asked in confusion.

I shook my head with regret. This wasn't Vera. This _couldn't be_ Vera. It was just some young mother with the same name. "Never mind," I told not-Vera, who looked and acted just like her. "You have any plans for the rest of this weekend?"

"Um, well," Vera began, still overwhelmed and confused, "I have ..."

"Cancel them all," I interrupted firmly. "Your plans are now with me."

"But my baby ..." Vera began.

"My sister, Alice," I jerked my head back toward the Starbucks entrance, "will watch her."

The baby definitely didn't look like little Henry ... that would be too much of a coincidence.

"But I breast-feed ..." Vera continued helplessly.

_All the better,_ I thought as I looked down admiringly at her fecund assets. And she surely worked that damsel-in-distress plaintive note in her voice to maximum effect. I wonder if she knew she was so effective ... and affective.

Mm. Yes, please.

"I'll help there," I purred, just in case she didn't get the message.

"How will you ..." she began. I guess she was a little slow on the uptake, but she saw my predatory eyes glinting, and she blushed furiously when it sunk in.

"Oh, my God!" she whispered, bringing her hands up to her burning cheeks.

I smiled hungrily, causing Vera to blush harder.

Her scent was starting to pull me in to satiate another hunger ... one that I swore off long, long ago. I'd better watch myself now and go on a hunt as soon as possible.

I pulled myself together. Hunting in one way excited the hunting instincts in all ways, but I was stronger than my instincts. I was stronger than this mortal girl in front of me, almost ready to collapse from the overreactions I was causing in her frail human body.

"Are you okay to drive home?" I asked with sincere concern. "Or do you need me to take your keys?" I held out my hand. After all, friends don't let friends drive under the influence ... _of me!_ And I wouldn't mind being this girl's ... friend.

But instead of accepting my offer, Vera got shakily into her van and put her keys into the ignition. She managed to start the van and closed the door. Vera struggled with herself for a moment, but then, eventually, she did roll down the window.

I couldn't suppress a victorious smile. _Mine!_ I growled possessively to myself. I like to win. Especially with these kinds of games, and with this kind of game. I had to work hard to hide my smile, but it just refused to stay hidden.

"Do you ..." Vera began then swallowed, "do you need my address or directions?" she whispered this question quickly, looking down at the dashboard.

"Oh, honey," I said, thoroughly enjoying my new play toy, "don't worry about that. I'll find you."

I do so love to play with my catches.

Besides her scent was now a part of me. I wouldn't have any trouble locating it in this nothing 'city' of Port Angeles.

Vera acquiesced, embarrassedly. "Why aren't you asking about my husband?"

"Oh, Vera, Vera, Vera!" I sang her name, sighing. "A mom along with a baby at a Starbucks on a weekend? He's either away working because he always is, or he's left you."

Vera nodded, ashamed now, at my assessment.

"I bet," I continued, "you haven't gotten any in a while now, have you, sweetheart?"

Vera blushed.

I was floating in euphoria: I couldn't wait to be giving her "any" ... in every way she could imagine, and in some ways she couldn't imagine ... yet.

I leaned into the car and whispered provocatively into Vera's ear. "You don't have to worry about that now." Vera gulped. I bet she was beginning to realize that she didn't know what she was getting into. She didn't know the half of it. "I'll see you later this evening," I continued, "with dinner in hand, so don't worry about a thing. I'm taking care of you now, sweetie!"

I placed my bottle of Ethos water into Vera's nerveless fingers. I _tsked_ internally. A breast-feeding mom going to a coffee place? I'd lecture her later about that ... but only _after_ some activities.

"Now pay attention to the road, and drive home carefully," I ordered her.

Vera started to pull out of her parking space, but then stopped.

"Um," she called out timidly but clearly enough for me to hear ... and anybody else in the small Starbucks parking lot.

"Yes?" I asked.

"What's your name?" Vera blushed again.

_Mmm._ I really _like_ this human ... most of them didn't even manage to reconnect their brains to be able to ask that question. I stepped up to the van's window again.

It took no small amount of effort not to rip the door off the van and take her right here in the parking lot.

But I answered with a voice filled with complete calm and control.

"Rosalie," I said. I reached in and turned Vara's head. Just one more kiss. I took that kiss, full on her mouth, then pulled away, smiling at Vera's completely dazzled look. "Rosalie Lillian Hale," I said proudly and quietly into her completely overwhelmed look.

I turned away from her. If I stayed any longer, I would take her in the parking lot, and she would let me.

"I'll see you later tonight, Vera!" I called over my shoulder and sauntered back into the Starbucks.

I sat back down next to Alice, very pleased with my latest soon-to-be conquest.

"Alice," I said easily, "I may need your help looking after a human baby tonight; you up for it?"

Alice just shook her head. "And Emmett's okay with this?"

I smiled, "'Okay?' It drives him wild when I tell him the stories, and there's nothing better than a wild Emmett in bed; he's always so _forceful_ when he loses control like that. I promised him he's my only man, but ..."

Alice _tsked._ "And so you're going to wreck that girl's family because she's cute and Emmett's okay with you playing around on the other side?"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please, Alice. I'm just going to have a little, well, a lot, of fun, with that human."

We were both keeps our voices far below what a human could here. We were relaxed in the Starbucks setting, but we could never really relax outside the home, and at home, we could never really relax around each other.

I continued: "Emmett's away; her husband's away. And girls just want to have fun, don't you know? Besides, I'm not wrecking anything that isn't already wrecked: it looks like she's been abandoned by her husband. It's just tonight ... no strings. You can join in if you want to ..."

Here Alice rolled her eyes.

"I mean, I know you don't swing that way," I explained, "but everything is worth a try once, right, Alice? You just don't know what you're missing, having a nice, little, warm human female beneath you, completely in your power. Every time I have one of them, I say, _ah! I could kill her if I wanted to,_ and she senses this, she feels it instinctively, she knows, somehow, that she could be on the point of death. But I don't kill her, and I give her a night she'll never forget. And their screams of pleasure mingled with fear as they quake uncontrollably ...? Well, there's nothing quite like it, is there, Alice?"

I looked down at the caramel macchiato prop in Alice's hand: "I'm better than how those humans enjoy that drink, and they seem to enjoy it inordinately." I grimaced, however, at the smell of sugar and syrup polluting the air around it, but then I pressed on, "so ..."

I grinned, then I said quietly, turning solemn. "I'm just giving that poor, overwhelmed mother a night of ecstasy with the most beautiful woman in the world." Here I indicated myself, just so there was no mistaking who that person is ... _me. _"A night free of cares and concerns, and I get to feel the warmth of her, a human, alive, just for a few moments as she gives herself to me."

"That's good enough for me ..." I said, then I looked down but then I looked right back into my dear sister's eyes, "and that's good enough for her. She could have drove off. She could have said _no._ And I would have listened to that. I would have respected those wishes. But she let me lead her to what she needs. And tonight, she needs a beautiful and mysterious and strong woman to take care of her for a change, instead of fending for herself and her baby. Tonight she needs me."

"And tonight," I continued, "she's going to get me. And I'm going to fuck the bejesus out of her, and I'll get to hold her, and feel a soft, warm, _human _woman in my arms. And maybe she'll let me hold the baby for a moment, and kiss her on the head, and look down on her, like a mother would. And maybe the baby will smile. And maybe ..."

Here it got hard for me to continue, however. But Alice understood. My whole family understood my 'issue' with babies, especially, of course, Esmé. But Alice, without even the memory of her human experience, knew of my own eternal loss in this.

I pressed on: "I'm not breaking up her family, Alice. Her family is already broken. But did you see how she left this place?" I wanted to add _'like a mouse'_ or, particularly, and to the point: _'like a Bella Swan,'_ but I didn't want this point to get tied to the inexplicably untenable position my entire family had agreed to concerning that girl. "Well, after I'm done with her tonight? After she feels loved by somebody? After she feels desired? For a change? Not oppressed or abandoned ...?"

I shrugged to Alice and then I whispered: "Carlisle has his own way of dealing with things, with this existence ... we all do, Alice. _This_ is my way. That's all. Sure, you think I'm indulging, and I am. Boy! Will I ever!" I smiled privately. "But Carlisle saves lives, Esmé warms the homeless with her blankets she makes and then donates," ... and again, I didn't meanly add: '_and converts innocent humans to be her children ... like me ... like I just know that she's planning for that Bella Swan' ... _"and I ..."

"I give a young single mom some confidence again, and then _I let her live her human life._ What I _don't _do is become attached to them; I _don't _worm my way into their lives like you and Edward are doing to that human girl. You know the deal, Alice, you've been around long enough. We move around every few years for a reason, but if you befriend this little girl, she's going to start to see things. No, she's going to start to see _more _things now, thanks to Edward and his tilting at windmills, and thanks to you and your 'oh, I'm going to love her, too!'"

"Alice," I told her seriously, "she's a _human_. Do what I do: love'm and leave'm. That's best for them, and it's best for us. Associate with a human too long, and they die. That's all they do: they just die. So let this little girl live her life in her little human world, and die. Edward says he doesn't love the thing, fine!" ... _even though the fool is going to be in her room staring at her all night, swallowing his venom-drool the whole time, the neanderthal!_

It was refreshing, talking with Alice, I didn't have to guard my every thought. I could speak my mind to her and, when I didn't wish to do that, because I knew it would start another fight that wouldn't get resolved ... or start one she just might win (not that it would ever happen) ... well, then I could speak my mind to myself without having that annoying grimace gave whenever he let you know he heard your every single thought but he was being _just so gentlemanly_ by _pretending_ to _respect_ your privacy.

I don't know how that boy could look in the mirror with any respect for himself.

Pompous ass.

I looked back at Alice, the newcomer to our family. She got on the high horse herself at times, too, but, honestly, we all did. Have you ever seen Esmé on one of her rampages? We 'kids' decide to have a little fun, sometimes we even manage to convince that ass Edward _("Oh, I'm only doing this to go along with your childish antics!"_ For goodness sake, we've established Alice is around 21, and Jasper has at least _one hundred years_ on Mr. Blue Nose), and then Esmé catches wind of it or catches us red-handed, as it were (no, not that way, we all agree to live the life), and there's the Talk from her, and — can you believe it? — groundings?

How do you ground a vampire?

Just like a human: take away her car keys.

For goodness sake: we aren't children anymore, but Esmé so _loves_ to play the mother, in every aspect of it. Even when she's an angry mother, she's still a mother.

And in that way, she's eternally happy.

A happy, tender, compassionate _vampire!_ Oh, yes, she just _loves_ that Bella. The very idea of that little girl just ... well, since she's a vampire, she couldn't wet herself, but that didn't stop her from embarrassing herself with her degrading cooing noises at the family council meeting.

So, so ... _so_ very different from my own mother.

Perhaps that's why I turn to Esmé at the times when I have nowhere else to turn for help or for comfort. After all, only Esmé can love me the way Esmé does, and nobody else can.

Wait a minute! Nobody really, truly loves me. I mean, Emmett's blinded by his infatuation of me, and his slavish devotion, so how can Esmé love me as Mother did not?

I shook my head.

Being a vampire, the danger is you think, and then you think about what you are thinking, and it all happens in an instant, and so you can be lost in yourself so deeply, so quickly and so deeply.

To pretend you are human? You have to think one thought at a time. So slowly. So linearly.

So stupidly.

Just like that stupid little Bella Swan.

Less than half-a-second had passed while I thought over these things.

"So," I continued, "it makes sense to leave her alone. Let him go back to Denali, make nice with Tanya, and come back here in a couple of centuries. Problem solved. If another van doesn't take her out, well, then, old age will. And she'll have her children and grand-children and forget all about us. That's the way it is. That's the way it has to be. Jasper knows that, and you should, too, sweetie. You don't play dolls with human girls, Alice. Dolls break, and this little human will, too, if you play this game with her."

Or even if we didn't. Have you seen that little thing? Emmett like to look at her, just to hear her heart race. 'Girl dies of heart attack from Emmett looking at her.' I could just read the headline. Or anything: 'Van smooshes Girl' or 'Library Book Smooshes Girl'

Or anything! Bella Swan, the nothing girl!

And Edward had to fall for _that?_

_WHY?_

And to think, he had a shot at _me ... _and he passes over _me_ ... _for that?_

Maybe something happened to Edward in his transformation. He turned down Tanya, too, and she's nothing to sneeze at. He claims he has this moralistic stance, but that flies in the face of his stalkertudinalness, that everybody's accepting without batting an eyelash.

Including Alice, the number one fan in the Team Edward fan club. Whatever Edward did, it couldn't be wrong, according to her, or even if it was undeniably wrong (which, I had to grudgingly admit, didn't happen up to now. He had been a goody-two-shoes since before I 'joined' the family seventy years ago) as in this case, then there was a perfectly reasonable explanation that absolved him of all wrong-doing.

_God!_ And the thing was, Alice had a brain that didn't disconnect itself whenever Edward's stupidly good looks made everything human forget how to close their hanging jaws.

Actually, that Bella Swan had been giving Edward dagger eyes, and that would have pleased me, inordinately so, too, if it wasn't obvious that she was angry at him because she was entirely besotted back.

So she gets negative points for her dagger eyes to Edward, even though she managed to hold onto her brain.

She gets negative points, in my book, for every breath she draws from now on, because that van should have stopped those wasted breaths.

She was living on overtime now, and what she was doing with it? The first thing in the hospital she does is to scurry right over to Edward and give him the _fuck-me_ eyes.

Well, that's not what Edward claims happened, but I know when a girl is staking her territory over a boy, and when she rolls up her sleeves and lays into a boy like that Bella laid into Edward?

I'm sure her _fuck-me-right-now_ eyes were on at full strength.

_That's_ what she's doing with her overtime: begging a _vampire_ to take her!

Foolish girl.

Perfect match for Edward, if you ask me. But nobody deserves our fate. Not even that little nothing of a troublesome girl.

So I hammered in the last nail with a plea for the girl's sake, that should play to both Edward's and Alice's sympathy: "Save yourself and Edward the heartache and let this one go. If not for your sake, then for hers."

I let the impact of my words sink into Alice.

Alice narrowed her eyes at me.

So much for carrying my point.

She did wait a full second. I saw her count to twenty-three thousand, gathering her wits about her and trying to keep her patience.

She even inhaled a whiff of her caramel macchiato. I had no idea why she would do that, for I smelt nothing but the disgusting combination of sugar, syrup, coffee and water ... all of it fine if it was out growing in the wilds of nature, but processed into that _soup_ the humans quaff so eagerly?

Ugh!

She says it reminds her of Jasper's scent.

Caramel macchiato smells nothing like vampire and nothing like Jasper, but she is so in love with Jasper that she probably smells him in everything, and light caramel mane of his, so like mine that we look like twins (I'm the more beautiful fraternal twin, of course) ...

Well, whatever floats her boat.

As long as it's not Bella Swan.

"She's going to be one of us, Rosalie," Alice says quietly and firmly. "You know that I saw that. So, to quote you: 'problem solved.'"

I opened my mouth to speak, but Alice would not be deterred.

"And before you go on your tirade about the horrors of being a vampire — she's going to be happy. I saw that, too, so don't go pinning your hangups and regrets on someone else. We're all different, and I'm _trying_ not to judge you for your lesbianic escapades, so don't judge me or that girl if we don't think that being a vampire is the worst thing in the world."

Alice didn't raise her voice when she was speaking to me, but there was an absolute certainty that I heard in every word she spoke.

But even as she was a tower of certainty (all four feet eleven inches of her), she still had to put in that sisterly dig: _'lesbianic.'_ Alice always did this. She would invent a word to get my goat. I could hardly resist correcting her intentional misuse or just outright errors.

We had actually honed this back and forth to an art form over the decades that we had had our conversations. They didn't always end up smoothly or amicably, like the time I implied her lost past must have been spent in some backwater like North Carolina, which must have been the cause of her malapropisms, or that 'Jasper had found a suitable and fitting mate' in Alice, seeing they both were so hick.

Of course, neither were. Jasper's our resident philosophy major and Alice is ... well, Alice.

But sometimes I could get mean.

Sometimes even Alice can get mean: like the time she imitated a pair of scissors with her fingers and said 'snip-snip,' glaring at my hair.

Two weeks. Esmé had to divide the house in half for two weeks, and neither of us spoke to the other during that time, because if we did ...

Usually Alice puts forward this image of being this happy little bird, flitting about, being happy and making everybody happy. But I've seen the serious Alice before, and I was seeing the serious Alice now. When she sets her mind to something, when she gets behind something, and believes in it, she was like this unshakeable stone mountain. A tower of strength.

Alice is this happy tiny girlish girl, but in no way is she a push-over.

Because of that, she was one of the few people that could talk with me, and that I could talk to.

But then she had to erase my warm feelings toward her with her next statement.

"And you'd better home that baby is a good sleeper, because I'm _not _watching it."

I felt my face hardening in anger.

"You know, Alice, fine!" I spat. "It's not like you wouldn't be in the way, anyway. I'll manage, thank you very much for your help!"

I stood.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get a dinner with lots of calcium _and_ no wine. See, I take care of the humans that come into my sphere, even it it makes my own agenda a little bit harder to achieve. _I_ don't stare at the all night, _nor_ make designs on them for eternity."

"You and Edward," I shook my head, disbelievingly. "I love you both to death, Alice, but really! You both rely on your disabilities too much. Edward's failed him now with that girl, and so it proves what I've always thought: that boy hasn't a brain. Now you're relying on a vision you've seen that is so fuzzy even Edward can't make head or tail out if it, but you sure are putting all your eggs in that basket. I'll grant you, you're mostly right, but when you're wrong? Remember our little wager on the markets back in the 50s, sister dear? You were just so sure of your ability to direct you to the right stocks, weren't you? Remember how you raced ahead with your seed money, until you put it all, _and_ the rest of the family's assets, on that one sure-winning stock? Remember how many years it took for you to rebuild our portfolio when that stock tanked so hard it was worth _less_ than the paper it was printed on? Remember how you rebuilt the family's fortune _after_ I showed you about the proper usage of options to balance out a short sale or a long position and how to apply the ten rules of trading? Remember how my seed money just plodded along, growing and growing, capitalizing on the strengths and minimizing the losses, never losing more than ten percents?"

This was my favorite argument and victory whenever Alice was 'sure' about something. Because stocks trend, yes, and it's easy to pick a winner on an emotional surge ... but it's just as easy to sink when the tide turns against you, for the most obscure and unexpected reasons, too.

That's why there are:

"Rules, Alice," I continued forcefully. "They are there for a reason. And experience counts for something, too. You may have been turned when you were older; you may be chummy with your favorite brother, Edward, but after Carlisle and Esmé, _I've_ been around the longest. You didn't have to live with him after his rampage through the underbelly of Chicago, New York and then Europe. You didn't have to live with him after he picked up the pieces of his mistaken decisions that we as _just so sure_ about until the consequences of his actions came up and slapped him in the face. And after how many died because of this last little crusade of his? How many will die this time, besides that girl he's fixated on?"

_And for absolutely no reason that I can see! Me or Tanya; that makes sense, but this girl? She can't even look you in the eye! Has she smiled even once? All she ever does is cower in the corner of the school cafeteria, hiding behind her hair!_

"Look," I said, "I have to go now, but this conversation is by no means over. Tomorrow morning, right here. And while you're doing your quilting bee with Esmé or whatever it is that you do while Jasper's away — you know? _Jasper?_ The one who's seen the Volturi in action when somebody thinks they are too big to follow the Rule? — while you're doing that, why don't you think about this: is that girl happy with this unlife you've foreseen because _she's_ decided that's what she wants, or is she 'happy' because _you've _decided for her? And how many things need to fall into place perfectly to make your fuzzy vision of one vampire girl who _you _say looks happy come into reality? If she's happy in her unlife, which I can't believe and _never_ will, I can only imagine how terrible you and Edward are going to make the rest of her mortal existence. Did you ever factor that into your happy plans for _her_ future that _you_ are directing?"

I paused and glared right back at the angry glare my dear _little sis_ was giving me.

"No, you didn't," I continued, undeterred. "So think about that tonight, and you and the rest of 'Team Edward' do the right thing starting tomorrow."

If Alice thought she could be an immovable mountain, she just met her match with the planet-smashing-sized comet called _Rosalie Lillian Hale._

Before she could get a word in edgewise to launch a tirade I knew she would go on about _oh! what a wonderful life_ that little nothing human would have in the Cullen family, I got up.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," I said haughtily, "I'm going to enjoy my night. I hope you enjoy yours, too."

I swept right out of Starbucks, checking my reflection in the floor to ceiling glass. Hm, one hair was out of place. I fixed that. There. Perfection.

_Damn! I look good!_ And a certain human named, and looking uncannily like, Vera would be benefitting from that look of the most beautiful woman in the world.

Me.

Rosalie Lillian Hale.

* * *

**Chapter End Notes: **

[1] This chapter is from the discontinued WIP ("How do we solve a problem like Bella") between my brother, geophf, and Lion in the Land; I did some light editing and changed the third person perspective to Rosalie's. Work used by permission from both authors. I've included it in this story because readers have asked for a more complete backstory of how Rosalie met Vera (again (sort of)).

[2] I added the meditation on Esmé, because, well, Esmé came out of nowhere and smacked me, _hard_ (lovingly), upside the head.

[3] Okay, I also added the digs about Edward and about Bella. It just seemed so _Rosalie_ to me that she would think this about her troublesome brother and that little human trouble-maker.

[4] Whew. I had no idea that a slight adaption would be so much work. geophf is responsible for Rosalie's words; Lila, for Alice's. I'll pass on all compliments to the respective authors. The mishmashing stuff is my fault, so I'll take all the blame for any ickiness.


	2. What Happened Last Night

**A/N:** Hello, my lovelies! I moved this chapter to chapter 2 and the new chapter I put in as chapter 1 as the new material is about what happened just before "What Happened Last Night." Kisses to ScOut4It for reminding me to put this note here. Sorry for the dust! :)

* * *

I knocked on Vera's door at 5 pm sharp. She would be having an early dinner tonight, because, I reasoned, indigestion would be uncomfortable for her in the activities we would be engaging this night following supper.

Her place was so easy to find. I had introduced myself to her with that forceful kiss oustide Starbucks, and she'd shakily driven off in her van, taking her scent with her, but Port Angeles is only so big. I only had to do a little bit of tracking, and I'm not hopeless in these things like my clueless brother, Edward. She lived at Fairchild Heights apartments, right next to the William R. Fairchild "International" Airport. It was called an international airport because one could throw a rock and hit the Canadian border. Well, one could do that if one were one of my kind. That's 'international,' all right. I remember the good old days of "54'40" or fight!" Whatever happened to Manifest Destiny?

Thank goodness today had been a cloudy day, so I could do the tracking without having the constant worry of dodging the sunlight. It also made selecting supper, and the bit of grocery shopping I did, much less bothersome.

But before the grocery shopping for Vera, a hunt was a necessity for me.

That bit of unpleasantness accomplished (do _not_ ask me how I liked my meal, for I _didn't, okay?_ What we have to put up with to live this 'vegan' lifestyle among humans), I knocked on her door. Until she heard that knock, she would tell herself that I wouldn't actually be coming, despite my very convincing assurances that I would be. She was probably hoping that I wouldn't. But I bet she was also hoping that I would, even if she couldn't admit it to herself. I heard Vera's attempt to sneak up to the door to see who it was, but she couldn't hide her heart pounding so hard in her chest, nor the quieter but naturally more rapid heartbeat of the baby girl she was holding.

As if it would be anybody else at her door? I looked at the dingy cinderblock walls. It was the weekend, so I wouldn't be a creditor a-calling.

Or maybe I was? That's me and my new profession: Rosalie Lillian Hale, Repo Man.

Her heart rate increased when she saw that it was me when she looked through the spyglass, which pleased me greatly, but I modulated my voice to a pleasant tone. No sense scaring off the prey so close to the kill ... well, _figurative_ kill. _I'll be a good girl,_ I promised myself, and then thought a bit naughtily, _unless she begs me otherwise._

They always eventually did beg otherwise. I repressed my evil anticipatory grin and put on an innocent air.

"Vera, are you home?" I pretended ignorance as to her standing right behind the door. "I brought supper, as promised."

After a second, Vera cautiously opened the door.

"Hello, Rosalie," she said quietly. She looked a little shy. She looked a little embarrassed.

She looked delicious.

She had changed. Different jeans, different tee shirt, different sweater. They were all different, but more of the same northern Washington wear: browns, blues, denim and cotton ... earth tones. But she had showered, and I could smell that she had been housecleaning, frantically so. I smelled the antiseptic smell coming from the bathroom in back of the small apartment, and I saw over her shoulder the cues of tidying up around her apartment.

She couldn't possibly pass Esme's or Alice's inspection, but she put a lot of effort in turning what was probably the shambles of a young mother's place who was fending for herself into something presentable.

"May I come in?" I asked politely, and indicated with my eyes the bags I was carrying. They looked heavy. They probably were for a human. It was a good excuse for me.

"Oh, sorry!" Vera gasped and stepped back, opening the door wider. "Can I help with those?"

I stepped in, taking in the smell of the place that was imbued with her black raspberry scent and a had a hint of the new comer, the baby's smell: diapers, and what goes in diapers, of course. But babies smell really, really good to me. Maybe it's just me, but there's something so new and fresh to the scent on babies' skin.

I really liked to hold babies, and just look in their eyes, and breathe them in.

Of course, they had to be bundled really well for me to hold them for any length of time ... after a while, the coldness that is me tends to drop their body temperatures below healthy levels.

"That's okay," I answered Vera's question easily. "I'll just set these down in the kitchen?" I was still being polite, but I was also taking things in hand.

It wasn't really a kitchen as it was more a kitchenette. I stepped in, Vera followed me, set the bags on the countertop and steeled myself.

I opened the refrigerator door.

Yes. It was bad.

The milk was fresh, as was to be expected, given her probably increased calcium intake, and I was pleased to see she had vitamin D enhanced orange juice, but the rest ...

I took out a full carton of eggs and threw them in the trash. They hadn't been touched, and from the smell, they had been in the refrigerator for a while. I replaced them with a carton of organic eggs I bought at the Safeway. I started clearing out the rest of the refrigerator, ditching some leftovers that had been left over for far too long.

"Um," said Vera helpfully.

"I'm just making some space in here for the food I bought, is all, Vera," I overrode her concern with my explanation. "Why don't you set the table and sit down while I take care of this?" I added the helpful direction, with a jerk of my chin toward the small table in the "dining" room at the front of the apartment.

"You're not moving in with me, are you?" Vera's voice sounded a little fearful.

I rolled my eyes as I continued replacing her inventory with mine. Bottled water next, check.

"Vera," I said patiently, "I live with my family, okay? Now ..." I waved again toward the front of the house, my back to her, ignoring her as I continued to unpack the bags.

I could feel that Vera watched me for a second, but then she pulled down a couple of those Corelle plates from the cabinet beside me and started out of the kitchenette.

"Oh, Vera," I called, looking to her. She turned — both hands full — one full of baby, the other holding the plates.

"Oh," I said, "never mind. Take care of that first."

She did, and when she came back, I gave her the dozen white roses I had removed from the bags when she was out front.

She blushed, turning the Washington sickly paleness of her skin a lovely shade of pink. _Very tempting_.

"For me?" she asked in confusion and embarrassment.

I smiled a small smile.

"Why?" she asked, still confused.

"A girl needs to feel special sometimes," I said quietly, looking away.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "That was nice of you."

Suddenly, I was the one who felt embarrassed.

"Well," I said, still looking away.

I heard her smell the roses, taking in their scent. My scent.

"Look, Maria," Vera said, pleased. "Aren't they pretty?"

I looked back. Vera was showing the baby the roses. The baby had a look of intense concentration on her face as she reached out toward the blossoms.

"You're baby's name is Maria?" I asked in a strained voice, watching just as intensely the baby's hand touch the flowers.

A baby bleeding because she punctured herself on a thorn? Not good. I held my breath.

"Yes," Vera said to me absently, looking at her baby who was now touching the flowers. "Aren't they soft, sweetie?" she cooed to the baby.

"That's a beautiful name," I gasped out through clenched teeth, not daring to breathe in as I spoke.

"Mmmhmm," Vera said, looking at her baby lovingly. "Don't they feel soft?" she asked her as the baby felt the petals.

"Here, let me take those," I said. I couldn't stand it anymore. I extricated the flowers from Vera, being very careful the whole time for her and the baby that nothing would tear against their soft flesh.

The bouquet was wrapped in plastic, of course, so there was really very little chance of anything happening, but in these situations, a girl can't be too careful.

Especially if the girl is a vampire. Like me.

Vera watched me as I cut the stems under running water. Of course she didn't have a vase, so I put the flowers, one by one, into a big plastic mug labelled with a garish big blue "Seattle Seahawks."

_Classy,_ I though ruefully, and sighed.

"But why white roses?" Vera asked, as if continuing a conversation that she was holding in her mind.

I continued to cut the stems as I explained: "A couple of reasons. White roses stand for purity and innocence." I grimaced: those were two traits I lost a long, long time ago in the white, white and then red-stained snow in the backstreets of Rochester.

"You think I'm pure and innocent?" Vera's voice radiated disbelief.

"You seem like a very sweet girl," I looked at her and smirked.

"'Girl'?" Vera's disbelief only increased.

"Yes," I answered easily, "what are you? In your early twenties?"

Vera looked away. "But how old are you, Rosalie? You look younger than me."

"Hm," I answered. I may have _looked_ younger, but I probably had sixty years on her. Announcing that fact wouldn't help the conversation any. "I think I'm a bit more _experienced_, however."

Vera's face colored. I chuckled. She looked good enough to eat, and I was going to enjoy this meal.

"What was the other reason?" Vera tried to change the topic.

"That's what my name means," I explained, finishing my work and throwing the ends of the stems into the trash. "It's from the Latin, Rosalie, it means 'white rose.'"

"So," Vera said hesitantly, "you're giving me yourself?"

I leaned back casually against the kitchenette counter and raised my eyebrow at her. People these days were so deep and serious. She looked away again.

No wonder why whiny Edward was so comfortable with a certain person of this generation.

"Why don't we have supper now?" I offered. "Would you like me to hold Maria while you finish setting the table?" I held out my arms for the baby.

Vera hesitated for a second, giving me that critical mother-checking-for-potential-danger-or-problems look that all mothers with babies are so expert at giving before gratefully handling over the bundle.

"She's really solid," Vera warned. "She weighs a lot more than she looks, and she's a handful, so hand her back at any time, okay?"

I took the baby in my arms. She weighed nothing, and as for her being a handful?

Let me tell you a secret about me and babies.

Babies love me.

I think it's my scent. I, like all vampires, give off a scent that attracts humans, my prey, to me. Of course I've sworn off that kind of life: never, _ever,_ indulging nor making a mistake, but from distance across the kitchenette I would smell 'nice' to Vera. Up close?

A strong and compelling smell of honeysuckle blends with a subtle rose scent. To humans, it's like breathing in Heaven.

For little Maria, she just couldn't get enough of me. She lookup up into my eyes with her big, brown, beautiful eyes — her mother's eyes — and she reached up with her tiny, little hand, touching my cold, smooth, marble cheek.

Her warm and delicate hand branded my cheek with its heat. It was a very pleasant burn.

Vera regarded us. "You hold her like a natural," she commented.

"Mmmhmm," I answered, lost in Maria's eyes. I probably looked like Vera just did when she was looking at her baby.

I felt Vera looking at us for a second more before she got utensils from the drawers beneath the counters and headed out to the table.

Maria smiled at me in wonder, and I felt myself melt, just a little bit, in her gaze.

I closed my eyes, breathing in that sweet, soft baby scent, and gave her a very, very gentle kiss her soft forehead.

"I could just eat you right up!" I whispered to the little thing in her ear.

"I'd prefer that you wouldn't ..." Vera said. I looked up in surprise. She had returned to the kitchen and was smiling at us.

It wasn't often that a human could surprise me. I guess I was really lost in the moment.

"Did you want her back?" I asked, looking to her. "Or may I ..."

"Oh, please, hold onto as long as you like!" Vera responded with relief and enthusiasm. "I don't get breaks like this. As long as you, you know, don't eat her ..." She said the last bit with a smile, but there was a hint of knowledge in her eyes.

I simply responded, "Okay." I didn't add an 'I'll try not to' because the joke might plant the seeds of doubt a bit too well in her mind. We predators, no matter how hard we try to hide our claws, were always showing our nature one way or the other. Humans feared us for a good reason, even though they weren't consciously aware of _why_ they feared us. Intentionally encouraging thoughts along those lines was just asking for trouble.

If hinting and joking were sure to stir up trouble, I wonder what pushing a van out of the way of a girl and then staring at her all night were cause for?

Lost his mind. My dear brother Edward has totally lost his mind, and with him, the whole family!

I thought these angry thoughts as I brought the to-go containers of food to the table. They were the plastic 'upscale' kind with black bases and clear covers. Bella Italia went all out. It was a first class restaurant ... for Port Angeles.

Vera helped me; she carried two of the containers of food to the table. "What's all this?" she asked.

"Well, let's see," I said, opening each container in turn, one-handed, cradling the baby carefully. "We have caprese antipasto, a cæsar's salad, and fettucini with grilled chicken in an alfredo sauce."

"Where'd you get all this?" Vera asked, not sitting down.

"At the Bella Italia," I answered. I looked at her quizzically. Did she not like Italian food at all? The selections were generic enough to be inoffensive to most palates.

Well, most palates, except mine, but I had my excuses prepared.

"Oh, Rosalie, you shouldn't have gone to the trouble," Vera exclaimed.

Now I was more confused.

"What trouble?" I asked. "It's just a couple of miles from here."

"But aren't they ..." Vera paused, working on how to say it. "Aren't they kind of expensive?"

I repressed laughter. The money concerns the Cullen family had was how to move enough of it quickly enough through our various grants to make sure our foundations didn't run into regulatory issues. This is actually a hard thing. We've discovered over the years that there are so many organizations in need of funding that just don't apply because they believe they don't even have a chance. We've actually had to solicit requests for funding these days.

But it looked like Vera had the opposite problem than what we had, so laughter would be unkind.

And then there was the whole question of measuring value. A four dollar cup of coffee isn't expensive? But that would also be the wrong question to ask.

"I heard the food was good there," I said, "and the prices were okay; don't worry about it, Vera, it wasn't any trouble at all." I sat down in my seat.

"Well, okay ..." Vera did look skeptical, but she did sit down. But then she had to get right up again to get serving utensils for the food. I sat holding the baby while she did this.

Vera came back in. "You don't know what a relief it is for me just to walk around the house not carrying the baby. I mean," she added quickly, "I love her to death and all, but this feels like a mini vacation." She also waved over the spread before her.

I smiled. "My pleasure."

"Did you want me to take Maria while you ..." she began.

"No, no," I interrupted, "you go ahead and eat first; I like holding her, if that's okay."

"Okay," Vera said, and dug into the caprese, examining it carefully first. She also served herself some salad and fettucini.

"What can I get you to drink?" she asked.

"Bottled water is fine," I said.

Vera got up again.

"In the bottle or in the glass?" she called from the kitchen.

"In the bottle is fine," I answered. It'd be easier to make it look I was drinking it in the bottle.

She came back with two bottles, opening one for me. Her scent lingered on the cap beside the bottle.

She started to ladle out some of the caprese for me, but I shook my head.

"No thanks, Vera, I ate already," I said casually.

Her eyebrows creased. "You're not going to have even a little bit?"

"No, but please go ahead, besides I can't," I answered.

Vera sat back down. "Why not?"

"I'm lactose intolerant. If I had any of that stuff now, it wouldn't be pretty later." Which was an entirely true statement. I _am_ lactose intolerant, and pretty-much-everything-else intolerant, and I don't think she'd like to watch me regurgitate the food that's indigestible to me (you have to have a digestive system to digest food, you see) as my body forced the foreign substance back up and out after forcing it down.

"You mean you bought all this stuff for me?" she asked.

"Don't worry about it, Vera." I could see that she was, however, so I added: "Like I said, it feels nice to be treated special sometimes, doesn't it?"

"Well, ..." Vera said, and began eating, uncomfortably.

Eventually, as I continued to entertain the baby — apparently Maria liked to play the drop-something-on-the-floor-and-regrasp-the-retrieved-item game — Vera's tension eased.

"How's the food?" I asked. _Besides disgusting,_ I added to myself. It smelled like spoilt milk and overfermented beer to me. And the smell of human food was so oppressive. The only thing that made it tolerable were the scents of Vera herself and little Maria — my 'food' as it were, but luckily for them, here, too, I was on a diet.

"This is really, really good," Vera responded with relish.

"I'm glad you like it," I told her, pleased.

She washed down her pasta with a swig of water. I ignored my bottle for now.

"I've got to say," she added after a moment, "having a conversation with another adult also feels really good. Maria has a beautiful laugh, but it really doesn't stretch the brain muscles at all."

I didn't think it appropriate to tell her that the brain wasn't a muscle.

"But it's also a bit of a surprise," she said. "I didn't think you were ..." She hesitated. "What I mean is, you seemed rather ..."

"Focused?" I asked helpfully.

Vera couldn't quite repress her grin of agreement. "That's one way of putting it," she said.

"I get that a lot," I said. "I just happen to think it's okay for a girl to know what she wants and to act on it."

Vera continued eat in silence. "Well, you certainly do know what you want ..."

"I've always known what I've wanted," I said.

But then I realized I was becoming dogmatic, which was fine with family. After all, they've known me for eighty years, except the newcomers Alice and Jasper, so they just had to deal with me. But Vera was different, I've only just met her today. This _wasn't_ my best friend from eighty years ago, as much as she looked and acted like her.

She wasn't, and, given what I am now, she cannot be. Not ever.

"But look at it this way," I offered in a conciliatory tone, "if I hadn't approached you as I did, would we be having this conversation now? I mean, how else could I get through to you?"

"What's wrong with the usual way?" she asked.

"Oh, as you're running off to your van, I do what? Run after you and ask, 'Excuse me, ma'am, can you tell me the time, and, oh, by the way, can we be friends?' _That's_ not creepy _at all!_" Incredulity and sarcasm filled my voice.

Vera took a thoughtful sip of water from her bottle. I reached out for my bottle, and pretended to drink from mine. I had become quite accomplished at moving water into and right back out of my mouth, making it appear as if I were drinking.

She put her bottle down.

"So a commando lip mash is the best way to meet people?" She was just as incredulous.

I shrugged. "Until you tell me a better way ... It has worked fine for me."

"You've had a lot of practice then?" she asked.

I shrugged again. _Much more practice than you would believe,_ I thought a bit darkly.

Vera sensed my mood. "I'm sorry about that comment," she apologized.

"Don't worry about it," I said easily.

"You say that to me a lot." Vera's eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you think I'm a worrier?"

I thought about that, rocking the baby who had drifted off to sleep. _Sweet thing!_ I thought looking down into that cherubic face.

"Hm," I answered eventually, "I'm not sure. Maybe you're too cautious? or too self-effacing? or too nice? But that may not be all bad, right? The world needs more nice people, I suppose." I grimaced. The world needed more nice people in Rochester in the '30's, that's for sure. "But how are you going to get what you want from the world if you won't demand what you want from it?"

"The world can be a dangerous place," she countered.

"There is that, too," I concurred, reflecting I was now very much a part of that danger.

I took another pretend sip of the water.

Vera had finished her meal. She had made only a little dent in the food. The Bella Italia portions were enough to feed two, and she only ate what half a person would eat. She was in good food for a little while, at least.

"Are you sure there's not something I can get you to eat?" Vera asked with concern.

"It's okay, Vera; like I said, I've already eaten."

We stood and cleaned the table, making room in the refrigerator for the fresh leftovers.

"Well, ..." Vera said, looking a little lost.

"Where does the baby sleep?" I whispered.

"Um," Vera looked embarrassed. "We could put her in the crib, I guess."

She led me to the bedroom. It was small, the bed taking up most the space, and the crib taking up most the rest. I could tell the crib had never been used. That was odd. I carefully put the baby in the crib and turned to Vera.

"Um," she said again. "I haven't, um, ..."

"Go brush your teeth, sweetie," I directed her. Kissing fluoride taste was much preferable to the lactic-citrusy-glutenous mess that she had just consumed.

She minced out of the room. I sighed. I would have to be really slow and gentle with this one.

I sat down on the bed. It was a bit lumpy, but serviceable enough. Vera came back in, and I patted the spot beside me, smiling.

She nervously took her place next to me.

"It has been a while, hasn't it, honey?" I asked her sympathetically.

"Yeah, a long while," she winced.

"Your husband — John, was it? — leave you?" I asked, probing gently.

"Sort of," she said. She looked down.

"What happened?" This was going much slower than I would have preferred, but it seemed we really had to work through this. I wasn't going to do something she didn't want, and she looked really uncomfortable about doing anything with me right now. I needed to know why.

Vera shrugged, looking away.

"Vera ..." I said. I smelled salt. "Did he hurt you?"

"Oh, no! Oh, God, no!" She turned back to me, her eyes glistening with tears spilling over.

I captured one and tasted it.

_Exquisite! _Her taste of black raspberries mixed in with her sadness and longing to make a heady melancholy essence. I was filled with her sadness and could not help but feel empathy, even as I didn't understand the reason for it.

I wonder if this is how Jasper tasted our emotions all the time?

"Then what happened?" I asked.

Vera shrugged again. "You remember that friendly fire incident that happened in Iraq last year?"

I suddenly knew the whole story. She didn't have say one more word, but I nodded my head to let her tell the story.

"Well, John was a marine's marine," Vera said this quietly, and a little bit proudly, and a little bit regretfully, "and when the marines say you go, you go. So off he went for God and Country, and as soon as he hit the dirt, he took a bullet for the team." She smiled weakly as she continued. "But that big dummy," her laugh was more of a gasp, "he took the wrong bullet." She shook her head.

Then she whispered: "He never was one to dodge anything," and she looked away for a moment. I smelled more salt.

"I'm so ..." I began softly, but Vera wasn't finished. She didn't even hear me, so lost she was in her story.

"First I heard about it, there were two marines knocking at my door in full formal dress. That only ever means one thing. When I saw them through the peephole, I couldn't let them in at first because it hurt me so much right here." She balled her hand over her stomach.

"'Mrs. Widmann,' they said, 'we regret to ...'" she gasped, "'we regret to inform you that your ... that ... yuhr huzb ...'"

Here she totally broke down. She turned her head into my shoulder and wailed, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I put my arms around her, holding her, breathing in her and her loss, feeling her tears wet my neck and sweater. Her scent was all over me and my clothes now, but in a very different way than what I had imagined it would be.

"Oh, Vera," I said, totally losing the disconnection between this girl today, and my dearest friend from more than seventy years ago.

She held me, and I, her, and she cried and cried and cried.

Eventually her crying turned to gasps and those became sniffles. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"He came home in a box," she continued quietly and sadly, calm again. "'Sealed casket,' but that was just a matter of form. A-10 rounds? They tear apart tanks. There probably wasn't enough of John left to put in a coffee can. The only way they knew who died was by taking muster and see who's names were missing. His tags didn't even make it."

"Vera," I said, "I'm sorry; I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, well," Vera said from her well of regret, "he died 'a hero for his country.' But where does that leave us? There's the rent to be paid, and taxes to file ... I don't even know the first thing when it comes to any of that! But, when the man joins the service, the whole family joins, right? So I guess I just have to soldier on ... just like John."

She sniffed. My eyes looked around for tissues, but I didn't see any. Vera blotted her eyes and then her runny nose with her shirt sleeve, her face disappearing into the crook of her elbow for a second.

Her scent was just everywhere.

She leaned her head against my shoulder. "I just spoiled your night, didn't I? I'm sorry, Rosalie."

I lifted her off my shoulder and turned her toward me. "You do _not_ need not apologize to me about ..."

She waved dismissively, "Not the night of fun you were hoping for, huh?"

"Vera ..." I began.

"You say my name so easily," Vera stated. "Do I remind you a lot of her?"

Hm. Even when she's sad, she's so observant.

Just like Vera was.

"Yes," I sighed. "In many ways, you're just like her. Especially right now."

"I'm not her, though, you know," Vera said, "whoever she was."

"Yes," I answered quietly. "I know that. I guess I just miss her, too, and I didn't realize how much I do miss her."

"Was she your lover?" she asked.

"No," I answered, "she was my friend. She was my only friend in the whole world. She was the only person who ever accepted me as I was and still even liked me at all."

"What happened to her?" Vera asked.

I shrugged. "She died."

"Oh," that caught her by surprise, "... I'm sorry."

I shrugged again, looking away. "That's what happens to people. They die. They just die on you."

"But it still hurts when they do," Vera's voice was touched by her experience.

"Yes," I answered, "more than I'd ... well."

This was the first time in my new existent that I had ever had a conversation with anyone as an equal, opening my heart to her and she did to me. I felt myself going onto dangerous grounds with this person who would just end up dying on me ... as they all did.

"Well, at least you have your sister, right? I don't even have that." Vera said.

"Yes, at least I have the Cullens." I answered distantly.

"I thought ..." Vera paused. "I thought your last name was something different. You said your last name was 'Hale,' right?" She looked down at my left hand. "But you're not married ..."

I sighed. Of course I couldn't wear my ring that Emmett gave me from our most recent wedding because that would raise too many questions for a 'girl' going to high school in this era. Time to play the charade, the ruse. "My brother, Jasper, and I are sort of adopted into the family. Dr. Cullen married my aunt, and we were living with her, and so ..." I shrugged.

"What happened to your par-..." Vera began, but then I felt comprehension stiffen her body. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I barely even remember them at all, because they died so long ago."

This was another true statement. I was just sharing my whole life's story with this sad little creature, wasn't I?

"How old are you, Rosalie?"

This threw me off guard. Which ruse would I play now? The question was asked with an insightful voice.

"Why do you ask?" Vera would tell me in her answer to this question how to answer her own. The Cullen coven had been playing this game for decades more than this girl.

"You seem so young, but you seem so old," she said.

Ah! She was looking for a soul-mate, not an age. Her question was easy to answer now.

"Just like you, Vera. Just like you." I replied sincerely.

Vera rested her head on my shoulder. It felt nice, companionable. Just like with _my_ Vera. Friends, true friends, sharing a moment in time, a moment of the heart.

But then I felt the wheels turning in her mind.

"Why don't we get you showered and to bed," I suggested. "It's been a long day for you, hasn't it?"

Vera surprised me with a big yawn.

_Humans._ They are so dependable in their frailty, so I coaxed her off the bed and helped her collect her night clothes, shooing her off to the shower. I heard the water going and heaved a relieved sigh.

That was close. We were getting too close, too fast.

My liaisons up to now had simply been for mutual gratification. Person X wanted a good lay, and I wanted to lay her. Very easy. No complications. But Vera with her complicating name and her complicated life just got me all entangled into her and then she started pulling apart the tangles to see me, the real person hiding behind the façade.

Just like that Swan child was doing to my stupid brother.

Edward.

I shook my head. I would _not _make his mistake. "Love'm and leave'm" ... that was my motto on how to deal with humans, because otherwise, they started asking questions ... or they died. Or both. And I didn't need complications: I was knee deep already living with those Cullens and their high drama. I didn't need one more drama that was named Vera ... no matter which decade she showed up in.

But she had been the only person how saw me as I was, and still liked me. Both then and now.

No. I have Emmett. He fills that role nicely, and he won't go dying on me.

But he doesn't really, truly understand me ... like Vera does ... I mean: did.

No, I can't think like that. I just have to ...

In the midst of the turmoil of my thoughts, the baby started crying in the crib. I went to her, swaddled her, and tried to settle her down, but it was vanity on my part. Her crying was needy.

I went to the bathroom door. The water had stopped, and I hear Vera dressing quietly and quickly. I knocked. Unnecessarily, of course: the baby was making herself heard perfectly well.

"I think Maria's hungry," I added helpfully to the baby's cries.

"I'll be right out," Vera called from the other side.

I cooed to Maria, rocking her, as Vera hastily finished her evening routine. I knew it was only a matter of seconds, but it felt like forever: a hungry baby is only consoled in one way, and doesn't understand that a short delay isn't an eternal one. By the time Vera came out, Maria was bawling.

Vera came out, and my "I tried to distract her, but ..." was said the same time as Vera's "I'm so sorry it took me so long, but ..."

We smiled at each other as Vera lifted Maria from my arms, heading toward the bed singing, "It's okay, sweetie, Mama's here; Mama's here. It's okay, sweetie."

Vera laid herself and the baby on the bed and started feeding. Maria instantly settled down, suckling hungrily.

I felt out of place. "Should I ..." I began.

But Vera surprised me again. She smiled and patted the bed beside her.

I was on the bed in an instant. I actually moved a bit too quickly, judging from the surprised look on Vera's face.

"A bit eager, are we?" she asked teasingly.

I saved my relieved sigh for later.

"Well, you know ..." I smiled back at her.

Vera rolled her eyes.

"Actually," I offered, "did you wish for me to get the light for you?"

"Yes, thank you," Vera said.

I got back up, turned off the light and returned to the bed. Both she and the baby glowed from the heat they were emitting.

"You both are so beautiful, Vera," I said. They were indeed. Mother and child: so close to each other, and so beautiful.

"Thanks," she whispered.

After a bit, she said, "I have to turn and feed her on the other side."

"Of course," I said. "Do you need help, or ... ?"

"No, I've got it. Practice, you know?" Vera answered easily.

So I scooted over a bit, and now Vera's backside was pressed against me.

The baby continued to feed, but then she drifted off into sleep.

"Why are you so cold, Rosalie?" a sleepy voice asked me.

"I have Wilson's Syndrome, and the weather really affects me," I answered. Another pat and prepared answer.

"You really ought to see a doctor about that," Vera said lazily.

"My 'father' is a doctor," I answered, and thought silently to myself, _and so am I._

"Oh, ya, that's riiii-..."

And Vera was out.

Well, this was a swell soiree, wasn't it?

But I also had another problem.

Vera had placed herself into my favorite position.

I like girls in any and every way, don't get me wrong. Of course, I don't allow cunnilingus, because I could explain away quite a bit: the not eating and the cold body temperature, but I can't very easily explain sweet honeysuckle and rose tasting 'mucus' (venom, actually).

The thing is: I have to be so careful and gentle when tribbing vulva to vulva.

But in this position? I can be a bit more forceful when rubbing against her buttocks as there was more padding back there. There is less risk of me causing internal organ damage ... or smashing the pelvic bone. So I can pleasure her with my fingers as I rub firmly against her backside. Feeling a girl, squeezing down on my fingers and then completely letting go, as I feel the warmth of her against my front, stimulating my labia and clitoris by pushing her body against mine ...?

I've had, and given, some very satisfying orgasms this way.

But now, of course with Vera asleep and holding her baby, for goodness sake! I don't think her waking up in the midst of me coming against her is anywhere in the cards.

I got up and when to the living room couch, very frustrated, and lied down.

A plane flew loudly over the apartment building, vectoring into the Fairchild airport. One just like the one that brought that Swan child to Forks, ruining everybody's peaceful existence.

I mean, she was nothing to look at. Just brown on brown on pale white skin: she looked positively sickly. And what was it with children these days? In my day, a girl knew the proper amount of face paint and perfumes to apply to be both modest and beautiful. Girls these days? They either overdid it, looking positively alien with glitter and whatnot, or didn't do it at all, looking positively frumpy. 'Grunge' was the term these days, right?

That's what that Bella Swan child looks like: grunge. Well, at least she didn't rip her jeans ... on purpose.

I had no idea what Edward saw in the thing. Okay, yes: I suppose she had this innate beauty, this air of innocence. But did she even try to do anything other than hide in the bushes? Literally? A woman could use those characteristics to bend anyone to her will. All that girl had to do is blink her eyes just once, and men would be falling at her feet, but did she?

That is, did she with any skill at all?

_No! _She was just so ... _fucking ..._

I didn't realize that was I was masturbating as I was meditating on the girl. I stopped myself. I didn't like her. I didn't desire her. She was just an annoying, mousy, little problem that was in everybody's way. She was better off dead. Jasper was right. I was right. The God-damned _van_ was right, _but no!_ Don Quixote Edward had to rush in and save the day, and now he's all entangled with her, and she's got the hero worship complex going for her own personal midnight stalker.

God! I could just kill them both ... that is, if Edward wasn't dead already, and if her own personal guardian vampire through tonight and every night from apparently now on didn't shred me first before I got to her.

Well, Edward would stay attached to her, no matter how hard he worked on denying this, for as long as she stayed fixated on him. Working on Edward was hopeless, as it always was. The big beanpole was always so sure of himself, even in the face of overwhelming evidence and a pile of dead bodies in the wake of his crusades.

But the girl ...

Hm.

It's actually rather easy to get humans not to think about us. Humans, by their nature, are distracted things, so this girl, so fixated on Edward now, could have her attention moved elsewhere. All she needed was a distraction, a substitute, and it would be accomplished.

And what better substitute than a replacement? And what better replacement than the best?

Me.

Of course, it would be a lot harder than normal, what with a vulture in her room all night. But Edward did have to come back to the house before the Chief woke up and checked in on his daughter. _Oh, the complaints!_ from that boy about that, as if every second watching an unconscious girl drooling was somehow vital. So, actually, it wouldn't be all that hard. Edward had to come back, and that's when I would strike.

Not to kill the girl, now ... that would cause too much family strife. But to show her the folly of her ways.

Well, to show her something.

She'd wake, crawl out of bed, and I'd be right there, and put her right back into bed. I'd meet her in the 'usual way' ... _my_ 'usual way.' And by the time I'd finish kissing her, by the time my fingers and caresses had worked their magic on her, she'd see reason.

Or, more precisely, she would be beyond seeing anything, reasonable or not.

I'd have to be very careful with her, of course. Extra careful. She looked like she was still a virgin, so, if the hymen was still intact, my probing finger would have to bring her to bliss without stretching her so much that she tore.

If she did tear, the ensuing bloodlust would solve the Bella problem, no doubt about that, but it would also open a Pandora's box more of other, nastier ones, both inside and outside our family.

And probably her father would miss her if I murdered her thus.

Just as my father missed me when I was murdered thus.

So, _dulce, dulce, dulce._ But _dulce_ could be very nice for both of us as well, and when she finally wraps her legs about me, eagerly pressing herself against me, then there would be tearing ...

Tearing of her pajamas or sweats or whatever she slept in off of her, and my clothes off of me, and then more than just our lips would be kissing.

Well actually, the labia are lips, too, so ...

Yes, indeed, I would _fuck the shit_ out of that little girl, and then ...

And then I would taste her sweet taste.

Not her blood, silly! But the mucus that would be flowing out from her? That, too, is surely to be perfumed with her lavender and freesia-scented goodness, and I would lick, and suck, and drink until she came again, drinking that in, too.

And that's when, in the aftershocks of her most recent of multiple orgasms, I would flip her about and ...

_God!_

... and I would assume my favorite position, and firmly press myself to her backside, and my caressing fingers would go to work on her, and make her come once again, and I would come, myself, good, long and hard.

As I had just done right now, I was surprised to find out. I restarted the breath that I had been holding and removed my hand, putting it on my hip. I smelled my scent coming out from me so strongly permeating Vera's living room.

And then, I would explain things to that Swan girl. I would explain why I had rescued her from that Edward. That Edward who had turned down every single girl's advance at Forks High School. That Edward who had led Tanya on for _two whole years_ and had left her high and dry in Alaska. Did this little Swan girl want to go through that Hell? After having had me?

Of course, she can't have me, either, so ...

Hm.

Whom could she have? Whom could I give to her?

Not any of the boys at Forks High School, of course. That Mike Newton surely tried hard, didn't he? But she saw right through him. All the boys, in fact, didn't deserve her ... they were, in actuality, far beneath her. For example, either Tyler or Eric having her?

Please.

And none of the other boys had the balls to approach her, so they disqualified themselves.

So that left the girls.

Jessica Stanley?

No. She was just like Mike Newton, only worse in a more vicious way that girls can be.

Lauren? She was quiet, like Bella ...

No, far too damaged. And that quiet façade was just that. What boy hadn't she slept with yet?

Angela Weber?

Hm.

Shy. Quiet. Dependable. Steady. Strong.

_Perfect._

Of course, Angela wouldn't make the first move, so I would have to school that Swan child in the Rosalie Hale methodology of the 'usual way.' I would have to push through that girl's shyness to _make_ her get what she needed: somebody to look after her, to care for her, to love her and to be her lover. Somebody strong without designs on her.

And I'd have to help things along.

I'd drive little exhausted Bella into school. It would be lunch time by the time I had finished with her and explained the facts of life. I'd escort her into the cafeteria. Right in front of my siblings, right in front of everybody, and bring her to her table, but then I would ask for sweet and lanky Angela's help.

"Bella's not feeling well, Angela, so could you look after her?" I'd ask innocently, and Bella's blush would explain enough to that Jessica, and my death glare would give that girl who couldn't take a hint a very clear message. _Stay the fuck away, bitch!_ Then I'd help Angela bring Bella to their own, new, permanent table.

Those freshmen didn't need that table anyway.

I'd even have a note, perfectly imitating Carlisle's handwriting, excusing her from participating in physical activities for the day ... well, planned gym activities. She'd be doing her own physical activities later ... with Angela.

But that would come later, because now I would saunter back to my own table, reading Edward's disgusted and furious expression with pure glee, and to make sure everybody got the message — which they would have already, but why not have fun rubbing it in? — I would pull my Emmett's ear down to me and say: "I just fucked the shit out of that Swan girl, and I am so fucking hot for you. I want you right now!"

And Emmett and I would excuse ourselves to one of the many available maintenance closets, and he would take me so forcefully and fill me as only my man can. Good thing we have more than several stashes of clothes in hidey holes around about the school.

And then, after gym, when Angela was showering from basketball — or was it volleyball? — I would make sure to push the Swan child toward her with some words of encouragement, pretending to leave.

But I would stay, hidden, and watch.

Just to make sure she didn't screw this chance up, don't you know.

But she wouldn't. She would be a good learner.

And Angela would ask Bella, all concerned, "Bella! Are you feeling better? You looked tired at lunc-..."

And that's would Bella would strike, kissing Angela, kissing her hard, pressing her naked elfin body against Angela's soaped and lanky one, and — _oh! my Goodness!_ — she went right to tribbing, grabbing Angela's ass and tribbing against Angela's leg, and rubbing her own hip against Angela's sweet little pussy.

"_Fuck__ Angela's sweet little pussy, Bella! Fuck it!"_ I whispered as I watched them embrace each other, now with inhibitions gone from both girls.

And Angela would come, moaning into Bella's mouth that she had to bow down to kiss, lips to lips.

But then Bella, sweet little Bella, sweet little impish Bella — _such _a good learner! — would then scoot down in front of Angela, kneeling before the wonder that is Angela, and press her lips to Angela's still quaking lips. And lick. And suck.

"_Oh, God! Bella! Lick Angela's pussy!" _I whispered fervently, watching them.

But then Bella, still kissing, still licking, still sucking, would look up into Angela's face contorted with pleasure. She would look up ... lovingly.

And then ... and then ... and then I imagined instead of Angela, she was doing that to _me!_ Looking up at _me_ so _lovingly!_

"_Oh, oh, oh Bella!"_ I cried out, coming hard. Smelling my own scent again fill the room, but then smelling Bella's black raspberry scent as well.

Wait ... black raspberry scent?

"Who's Bella?" A groggy voice asked from the bedroom door.

Black raspberry was Vera's scent, not Bella's. She had surprised me again, as I was so lost in my plans and schemes ... and other things.

"Nothing! Nobody!" I said quickly, removing my hand from myself guiltily.

Vera regarded me skeptically. "It didn't sound like nobody ..."

"It's just some girl at my school, is all," I said quickly, sitting up on the couch.

"And Angela goes to the same school?"

Apparently, Vera had overheard more of what I thought I was saying to just myself.

"No," I said quickly, "I mean, yes. I mean, they aren't ..."

"Which school?" Vera asked, and the way she looked at me, a fresh round of guilt overcame me.

"Forks ... I mean, nowhere!" I shouldn't have said 'Forks.'

"Forks?" Vera asked in confusion. "I don't remember hearing of a college there ... Wait!" Realization dawned on her face. "You mean 'Forks High School'?"

I looked away.

"Rosalie," Vera commanded, "how old are you?"

I couldn't look at those intense brown eyes.

"Oh ... my God!" Vera exclaimed. "I ..."

It sounded like she didn't know how to continue.

"I'm a lot older than you think, Vera," I whispered, still looking away. "Besides, age shouldn't matter, right? If two people, you know ..."

"I think," Vera said so severely that I had to look at her, "there are two _other _people that you have issues to deal with before we even think about talking about _us."_

"No!" I said. "They don't mean anything to me at all. Besides, what with Alice and my brother Edward being so protective of Bella ..."

It was a hopeless scheme. Alice probably already read my decisions and was running off to tattle on me to her favorite brother. Those two! You couldn't even think or plan anything without the whole family having an emergency council meeting about it, for goodness sake!

"They don't mean anything to you, but you were calling out their names while masturbating." Vera crossed her arms.

"I mean, they don't me anything to me anymore, ..." Vera raised her eyebrows at that. She looked so imperious. She looked like Mother looked when she was talking down to me.

"_Oh, God!"_ I exclaimed, putting my face in my hands. "I meant, I'm here for you now, that's what I meant."

Vera just shook her head. "Rosalie ..." she started.

"Look," I said desperately, "can we start over? You know, just start over? I screwed up, okay? I'm sorry. Can we just try again?"

I had no idea why I was so uncomfortable nor why I was trying so hard with this human ... and that made me more uncomfortable. Where had the upper hand that I always held ... where had it gone?

"Rosalie ..." Vera began again, and my throat went dry as I sensed my doom.

"... maybe." She concluded.

My doom that shockingly didn't materialize.

"'Maybe'?" I asked in surprise.

"You're a nice girl. You were very ... _nice_ to me, and Maria, tonight, but I think you have to work some things out before we go any further. First, you need to talk things over with this Bella person and ..."

A cry from the bedroom interrupted her.

"Oops," she said, not at all surrendering the upper hand, "it sounds like a diaper needs to be changed."

She turned toward the bedroom.

"May I help?" I asked timidly.

She turned back and regarded me in silence.

"Please?" I asked.

"... okay." She said, giving in.

I smiled.

"But, Rosalie ..." Vera held up a warning finger.

"Yes, yes, I'll be a good girl," I acquiesced eagerly.

Vera sighed, but let me in the bedroom.

I changed the baby. You'd think that be no fun, but taking off the diaper, wiping her, putting on the new diaper ... the whole time touching that soft, new human skin? It was heavenly for me.

It may not do anything for you, but then, you may have a baby someday. I never will.

Vera fed Maria again. I watched for a moment and then dared, "May I ..."

"Rosalie ..." Vera scolded.

"I'm ... I'm lonely, Vera. I'm lonely, and I just need to hold you, that's all, and be held by you. That's all."

Vera scowled. "You sure are a piece of work, aren't you, Rosalie?"

"Is that a 'yes'?" I asked hopefully.

Vera sighed, and I got onto that bed before she changed her mind.

"Lights out?" I asked.

Vera nodded. Maria was falling asleep again, so Vera switched sides, rousing Maria for the other breast, as I switched off the lights.

I got back into the bed and kissed Vera on her crown.

"Holding _only,"_ Vera whispered groggily, succumbing to sleep.

"Okay," I sighed, cuddling up to Vera's back.

My favorite position. I sighed again as Vera drifted off to sleep.

I held her for a good long while, and then put a blanket between us when her body temperature started to drop too much as her heat was absorbed by the coldness that is me. With the blanket between us, I held her for a good long time more, feeling the warmth and softness of her and her baby through the blanket, smelling that delicious scent of hers as she breathed it out through the rest of that night as she slept in my arms.

...

I got up before she did, of course, and prepared a cheese omelet for her.

"Mornin'" came the groggy greeting to my ears ... long after the creaking of the bed and the shuffling footfalls did.

How could I have possibly missed those tell-tale signs before?

"Good morning," I said pleasantly. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in a long time," she admitted, and then added: "Coffee. Please."

I held out a bottled water to her.

"Not for you as long as you're breast feeding your baby. You do know that caffeine does get into the mil-..."

Vera's raised hand silenced me, but then she did take the bottled water.

"What's all this?" she asked as I put the plate-full of omelet and toast in front of her

"It's called 'breakfast' ..." I informed her.

Vera sighed.

"What about you?" she asked.

"Oh, I had a muesli bar before I cooked that." I said the practiced lie easily.

Vera grumbled. "Must be nice to be chipper in the morning ..."

She ate in silence.

"Do you have to get ready for work?" I asked her when she finished.

She looked away. "I don't have a job."

This was surprising. "How do you afford ..." I waved to the dingy little apartment that must have cost some amount of money in rent each month.

"John's pay covers part of it, but ... I can't," she said.

"And you're going to _Starbucks?"_ I asked shocked.

"At least it's a change of scenery, and so I can spend the morning in a nice looking place with my baby for the price of a cup of coffee." Vera shrugged.

"But what are you going to do when the landlord come calling?" I demanded.

"Get kicked out on my ass? Live in the van?" she offered.

"Go back to live with your parents?" I suggested forcefully.

"No way," she shook her head just as forcefully. "No way. And go back to them and have them say: 'Now, Vera, we told you that John boy would turn out to be a nogoodnik, and see what happened?' every day for the rest of my life? And have them take away Maria from me because 'I ain't raisin' her right'?" Then she repeated, "No way."

"And you can't get a job?" I demanded.

"Nope," she said, then grimaced. "Look, Rosalie, this isn't your problem, okay? It's mine. I don't have college, so any daycare? It'll cost more than the job would pay. Besides which over ninety percent of daycare places don't meet federal standards, did you know that? And who's gonna raise my baby while I'm at work? The TV? Now with four hundred channels all showing God-damned Barney and Dora 24-7 at a daycare center near you? No, thank you."

"Welfare?" I offered.

"Nope. Don't do welfare, and besides, you have to be looking for a job — which I'm not — to be on the dole, _and_ John's pay makes welfare help for me zilch."

I sighed. _Love'm and leave'm. _ Was there any rule that was surviving these days? I blame that Bella Swan.

I pulled out my private business card and wrote a phone number on the back of it.

"Nice pen," Vera observed.

I handed my card to her.

"I thought you were going to high school, Rosalie." Vera said when she looked at my card.

"I am," I answered.

"'Rosalie Lillian Hale, Partner, Pacific Northwest Trust'?" Quoted the card disbelieving me.

I shrugged. "The Cullen family owns a hedge fund."

Vera handed the card back. "I don't do handouts."

I pushed the card back. "For goodness sake, Vera, how many decades will it take for you to learn? It's not a handout. You have to call that number, and you have to get a job there. I just happen to know we are in need of good, honest, decent people."

"... and they'll let me take my baby into the office?" Vera shook her head.

"Yes, as your office will be here. We need telephone answering service personnel, and ..."

I stopped. Vera was looking at the card and then she spoke quietly and regretfully.

"I don't know, Rosalie ..."

"What's not to know?" I demanded.

Vera looked back up at me. "You can't buy me."

I closed my eyes and blew out my breath slowly.

She was right. I couldn't buy her. I could buy the entire Fairchild Heights apartment complex. I could buy the whole city of Port Angeles. Maybe I could buy all of Seattle. Okay, maybe that was pushing it, maybe just a few of the (nicer) blocks of Seattle. But I couldn't buy her.

"Vera, you were always so, so proud and so God-damn stubborn, will you just for once ..."

"I think you're confusing me with somebody else," Vera said tightly, and pushed the card back to me.

I took the card and narrowed my eyes at her. I saw her limned in red as the capillary action made her very appetizing. I was furious.

"Yes," I answered in a quiet bark, conscious of the sleeping baby in the next room. "Yes, Vera, I confused you with somebody else. _And I'm sorry._ But I didn't confuse the fact that you and your baby have several options, one of them is this," here I held up my card, "and another one of the several options is the _streets_ in _January _in the _Pacific Northwest! Is_ this _charity?_ No! In business you work with people you know, and you like. _And I like you, okay?_ So call the God-damn number, and talk to our personnel department, or don't call the God-damn number, your choice, Vera, okay? But at least have that choice to _make."_

I stood, placing the card, very gently, on the table, and started heading toward the door. If I had slammed my card down on the table, like I wanted to, Vera'd be pulling table splinters out of the floor, the walls, the ceiling, and ... herself, for days.

"Rosalie, where are you going?" Vera asked, a little surprised and overwhelmed at my tirade.

I didn't turn around. "I have to get ready for God-damn _school."_ This weekend was an entire bust, _and,_ on top of that, I had the face my dear little sister very much having lost the upper hand in yesterday's argument.

"Rosalie ..." Vera said quietly, and I did turn at that. She looked at me sadly. "Thank you. It was ... an interesting weekend."

I sighed and went back to her. "Hug?" I asked.

"Hug," she answered.

And we hugged each other cautiously.

"Friends?" I whispered in her ear.

"Okay," she answered then pulled back. "But Rosalie ..." she demanded.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Work out your issues with Bella before you come back here expecting to start anything."

"Okay," I answered sadly. "'Bye, Vera." I said.

"'Bye, Rosalie." Vera smiled a sad smile in parting.

"Kiss Maria for me, will you?" I asked her, and Vera nodded _yes._

I let myself out.

But after the door closed behind me and I was already down the hall, I realized two things: firstly, I had told her that she hadn't changed in _decades._ That was a bad slip, with me not looking decades old, but one I hope she didn't notice. She didn't seem to. The other thing was this. I had passed by Night Dreams and picked up a couple items in anticipation of what were to be last night's activities before things turned out very differently. When she looked in the shopping bags and opened the black box with the pink bow? And found the strap-on harness ... and the vibrator?

_God damn it!_

I guess I wouldn't be seeing Vera again, or, at least, for as long as Bella was alive, because that was another thing Vera was very clear about. And Bella and I? The two of us? Working out our differences?

That wouldn't be happening in her lifetime.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

**Canonical?:** The characters are canonically based, Rosalie's specific behavior here is not hinted at in the canon, but then it is not denied by the canon, either. So: yes.

**Fiction:** The events described in Iraq are accurate, the persons implied involved are fictional.

**Continuation?:** Yes, Vera has whacked me upside the head with more chapters ... I guess I know my Muse's name for this story ...

**Endnotes:**

[1] twilightlexicon(dot)com timeline used to verify date of van incident

[2] Wikipedia was used to identify the Battle of Nasiriyah as the friendly fire incident where an A-10 barrage took out six U.S. Marines in late March of 2003.

[3] Bella Italia's menu is online (bellaitaliapa(dot)com), and, of course, their featured item is "Bella's Mushroom Ravioli." Work it, GF!

[4] Information about Port Angeles apartments is easily retrievable from various sources. Unfortunately no pictures of the area give a feel of how it's like, but multiple tenement buildings crowded near an airport next to the Straight of Juan de Fuca? It's not hard to guess, as this author has been very similarly situated.

[5] It may appear incredible, but many foundations have difficulty getting money out to the organizations they are supposed to support, so some have turned to a form of recruitment and mentoring to solicit requests.

[6] Wilson's Syndrome is depressed body temperature and is the cause for many health issues. It often strikes early in life (so people who have it often don't know, because they think that it is how they are normally) and eighty percent of the people affected are women.

[7] Rosalie has her M.D. That's somewhere in the canon, but I'm not quite seeing it in the twilightlexicon at this moment. Somebody help me out here?

[8] Pacific Northwest Trust is the holding corporation for the Cullen's assets. It is mentioned as part of the New Moon outtakes published by Stephenie Meyer on her website at stepheniemeyer(dot)com / pdf / nm_outtakes_scholarship(dot)pdf.

[9] I got the idea of Rosalie's scent, honeysuckle and rose, from my brother's stories about Rosalie, particularly "My Sister Rosalie."

[10] The tale of Rosalie's best friend, Vera, in her human life in the 1930's is told in _Eclipse,_ chapter 7 "Unhappy Ending." That Vera died a natural human death, insofar as the canon implies. This Vera ... ? Well, does she need her own story?


End file.
